


On the Mating Habits of Birds

by scribblemyname



Series: Trope Bingo 2015 [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Developing Relationship, F/M, Romantic Fluff, SHIELD, Sharing a Bed, partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 17:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/scribblemyname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're not romantic people. They're homegrown, salt of the earth. She likes jeans and jackets; he likes hoodies and sunglasses. She plays with sticks and he plays with strings.</p><p>"Clint, toss a beer."</p><p>He tosses and he never, ever misses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Mating Habits of Birds

**Author's Note:**

> A rambly bit of Bobbi/Clint. My first try at the pairing, just getting my toes wet, so to speak.
> 
> Timeline predates Clint recruiting Natasha into SHIELD. Kinda just ignoring Hunter/Bobbi.

They're not romantic people. They're homegrown, salt of the earth. She likes jeans and jackets; he likes hoodies and sunglasses. She plays with sticks and he plays with strings.

"Clint, toss a beer."

He tosses and he never, ever misses.

They fall into bed somewhere after the second or third mission they both managed to land on. He watched over Bobbi's shoulder through a sniper scope as she laid it on cutting and thick to get the intel they needed.

Coulson gave the call. "We got what we need. SHIELD doesn't need him anymore."

Clint's job. He takes the shot. Bobbi gives him that look, half amused and half 'I can take out my own targets, thank you.'

He packs down his bow and comments, "You're a regular mockingbird, aren't you?"

She laughs. It's fitting for her interrogation style, her way of trash talking in combat. "Mockingbird. I like it."

"Please tell me you two aren't making more paperwork for me," Coulson comments dryly over the comms, but they don't tell him that.

They break down and pack it in and let Coulson take first shift while they crawl into the same bed and just sleep until morning. Bobbi wakes Clint by shoving him off the bed.

"You're a snuggler," she tells him.

He glares. "And?"

Her eyebrows come up. "You're hot."

It wasn't meant as a double entendre and for the first time, they let it slide.

After that, they share beds whenever it's less expensive on a mission or safer or she's the only woman on the team and wants to be left alone. They laugh off the adrenaline high together, her fingers curled around her favorite beer, his hand tangled in her hair.

They're not romantic. It's not roses and wine glasses, stemware and evening wear when she crawls on top of him on the bed instead of beside him and tastes him like she's been wanting to for a while. It's not gentle and sweet and 'making love' when they first decide to ride out the mission high instead of joke and banter and laugh. It's not precious; it's as down to earth as they are—hard kisses, warm hands, 'brush your teeth' before and 'your turn to make the coffee' after.

They make more paperwork for Coulson.

"You were a good pair," he says with all the straight-faced sorrow they'd expect of him retiring Lola (or his favorite pen). "I can't put you in the field together anymore."

Clint shrugs. Bobbi twists her lips into a smile. Mockingbird and Hawkeye split up. Morse and Barton put a ring on it.

But they aren't romantic. They roll out of bed and split to the lab, to the field. She calls him on a mission when she can and he's home and reminds him to not to spoil the dog. He calls her from the airport when he switches from one country to another on back to back missions without coming home.

"Don't die out there," she tells him, instead of 'I love you.'

They don't blow kisses. He spends Valentine's Day trying not to get shot while she's sweet-talking her way into a terrorist facility as their new head of security. Sweet-talking involves collateral damage, but let's face it, he won't judge. They both forget their first year anniversary and stare blankly at the gift Coulson hands them.

"I was best man a year ago today," he reminds them gently.

They're not romantic. They don't care.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [On the Mating Habits of Birds (Damn Birdfolk Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7525558) by [red_b_rackham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_b_rackham/pseuds/red_b_rackham)




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